Travelogue: Penn Township man, son meet neighbor while hiking Canadian Rockies

(Editor’s Note: Penn Township resident Robert Szypulski and his son, Scott Szypulski of Oakland, share their latest trip to Canada. They are regular visitors to our nation’s national parks.)

Sooner or later, those who enjoy epic Rocky Mountain hikes in the awesome American national parks of Colorado, Wyoming and Montana may seek a challenge further north.

It happened to my son, Scott, and I this fall when we targeted two hikes in or near Alberta’s Banff National Park, the alpine heart of the Canadian Rockies.

Smutwood Peak is a 12-mile, out-and-back trek just south of Banff in the Peter Lougheed Provincial Park. The Larch Valley hike is a short, 5-mile trip starting at Banff’s breathtaking Moraine Lake.

To utilize airline miles, we flew into Spokane, Wash., rather than Calgary, Alberta. That left a 7 hour drive to our lodging in Canmore. Less expensive and busy than the trendy resort of Banff Town (15 miles northeast), Canmore is a charming and excellent base camp for the area’s superb hiking, cycling and skiing options. We found reasonable lodging and saw many hotel options throughout town.

The Smutwood Peak hike is in what’s called Kananaskis Country, a collective of side-by-side provincial parks just south of Banff National Park. Similar to the Delta Lake hike in Grand Teton National Park, Smutwood is an unofficial, rogue trail that has grown in popularity over the years. Known for high grizzly bear activity, it’s recommended to tackle this one in small groups, each hiker carrying bear spray. The trail was well populated on our attempt, so, armed with spray, we felt safe.

First, we’ll note that driving to the hike was its own adventure. The Spray Trail Road (Highway 742) out of Canmore quickly becomes all gravel and pits for most of the 26 miles to the trailhead. While slow-going, a standard passenger vehicle without four-wheel-drive or higher axle clearance can easily make the trip.

As for the hike itself, Smutwood’s unappealing name doesn’t detract from its unforgettable challenge. In fact, in the seven prior years Scott and I have hiked western mountains, this was the first time we reached a point where we saw the finish and didn’t think we’d get there. But that’s jumping ahead.

The hike actually started easily, its first mile tracking an old logging road with only a gradual incline. It then entered fragrant pines and brush for a claustrophobic, sometimes muddy stretch that opened to an idyllic meadow along Commonwealth Creek. From there, it was a pleasant stroll to the end of the valley. High above us, Smuts Pass loomed, a windswept launching pad for the final push. That’s when the hike showed its teeth.

The trail gains 3,274 feet in elevation and most of it came in the climb to the pass. Accustomed to switchbacks that soften ascents, there were none, just a straight climb up a combination of packed dirt and nasty avalanche scree. Lulled by the hike’s ease to that point, we both felt our legs go rubbery by the time we crested the pass. Just before reaching it, we met two couples who turned back because of the wind. Had they persevered, the winds subsided in the mini cirque that protected two small lakes over the saddle.

At the pass, the ridge to Smutwood Peak became visible, as did the basis for its name. To the right was Mt. Smuts. To the left, Mt. Birdwood at 10,161 feet. The joint-named destination is perfectly situated to view both, especially A-shaped Birdwood. The pass was also where Scott and I questioned whether we could reach the faraway peak at all. After the vertical grade we’d just climbed, it didn’t seem possible.

But a rest, a snack, watching fellow hikers press on, and seeing stick figures high on the peak recharged us. We crossed a narrow path along the rocky western slope above the lakes to the grassy base of the final ascent. The trail then tracked upward below the ridge to a false summit we later learned was where most hikers turn back.

Not only are the views rewarding enough from there, but the remaining route to the peak is “all-fours scrambling” and not for the faint of heart. Taking care with each hand and footfall, and following tips from those descending, Scott and I summitted and celebrated with those we’d met along the way. The 360-degree panorama of nonstop alpine peaks was the most impressive view of the Rocky Mountain range we’d seen in either country.

In retrospect, even including our spine-tingling climb up the Half Dome cables, I remain most proud of summitting Smutwood, a hike I clearly underestimated.

We celebrated again that night at Canmore’s top-rated pizza shop, Rocket Pie, which we heartily recommend. In the morning, we drove to a Lake Louise park-and-ride and rode a shuttle 11 miles to Moraine Lake. Closed to all cars, the lake is only accessed by shuttle, bicycle or a connector hike from the Paradise Valley trail. The lakefront was packed with visitors, many there only for the iconic photo taken from a rock pile above the gorgeous turquoise water. The shot was once featured on the back of Canadian $20 bills.

The more adventurous joined our hike up to Larch Valley. Late September is the ideal time to hit this trail, with deciduous larch trees changing from dark green to various lighter greens, limes and yellows before their needles drop. Catching the change with the Valley of the Ten Peaks as backdrop makes for another popular trek.

Scott and I had originally planned to extend the hike to Sentinel Pass (a mile beyond, up another mountainside), but sore knees and legs objected. Not only due to the prior day’s strenuous miles, but also the tough set of pine-scented switchbacks we scaled to reach the valley from the lake.

After rest and admiration, our descent created a “small world” gem. As a young couple snacked at a switchback elbow, Scott overheard the woman mention Pennsylvania. He asked what part of the state. She said Pittsburgh, and we exchanged last names. She didn’t know ours, but hers was the same as a family that lived two streets from our Penn Township home. That family’s son was a friend of my daughter’s. Well, you guessed it. The young woman was that boy’s much younger sister, growing up the same two streets away from us.

As we drove the Icefields Parkway (jaw-dropping mountain scenery) to cap the day, Scott and I couldn’t get over bumping into “Laura” on a forest switchback, 2,200 miles from our shared neighborhood. Just another dash of national park magic … this one with a Canadian twist!